COLORADO 001

Wildernest is a condo community occupying a mountainside just outside Silverthorne, Colorado. I am subletting one-half of a 2-bedroom condo for the month of July. The Peruvian tenant has returned home for the month, leaving behind sister Racee (roll the R hard) and husband Sergio, a delightful couple that ply me with ceviche and introduce me to the wonders of their homeland (“we have a canyon Grander than yours”). Their English is sketchy, but infinitely superior to my Spanish.

The 10,000 ft. altitude presents some interesting challenges. While on a modest 4-mile trail hike last Saturday I happened upon several aging volunteers engaged in trail maintenance. Having little to occupy my world at the moment, I returned “home,” donned work boots, gloves, and hard hat, and trekked back to the work site where I joined these “mature” nature helpers who appeared rather fragile as they hacked away at roots, dug water runoff trenches, and “revegitated” areas that errant hikers had “devegitated.”

Determined as always to do my part and then some, I failed to include altitude in the equation, and several hours later, when the group stopped for lunch (after I earlier announced that “I do not eat lunch,”) I sank meekly to mother earth and began to pray for rain.

I vowed to stay until the 3pm terminus, not least because one of the clan announced she had cold beer in a cooler at the trailhead, but when lightheadedness morphed to minor hallucinations (i.e. a root I was about to dislodge shrieked “don’t kill me,”) I tucked tail neatly between legs, mumbled something lame about meeting friends in town, and staggered back to the trailhead, where in my ultimate humiliation I grabbed the free bus back to my condo rather than walk.

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The free bus connects the towns of Silverthorne, Dillon, Breckenridge, and Keystone, the latter two being major ski resorts. It is a lifeline to the large immigrant population that supplies labor for the area. I am often the only English-speaking rider as we wend up and down the steep hillsides.

Typical of resort areas that post notices imploring tourists to have fun, but not too much, the busses carry the scary warning that “disturbances are punishable by up to $750,000 in fines and up to 16 years in jail.” Now in Colorado a Class II felony (including 2nd degree murder) carries an average 27.2 year sentence, and with good behavior, one rarely serves more than half that time. If I wanted to do away with someone in Summit County, I would think long and hard on how to get them to create a transit disturbance.

In fact I overheard a disheveled local (a “ragged person” in Paul Simon parlance), recount that last St. Paddie’s Day, returning from the requisite revelry and belting out his favorite Irish ditties, the bus driver ordered him, not to stifle himself, but to exit the bus. When he protested, he was directed to the posted sign outlining potential consequences. I wonder if there is anywhere else on the planet where one can get hoosgowed for 20% of his lifespan for singing off key?

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Though it comes as no surprise, the demise of Tony Snow received (except from Fox) only minimal mention, while the requiem for Tim Russert lasted weeks. Like Russert, Snow was considered fair and was well respected, but of course being conservative, his passing was noted curtly by the mainstream media. The outrage is that an obit circulated by the AP and comments on the LA Times and Daily Kos blogs found it appropriate to take vile parting shots at the 53 year old father of three. Even in death…

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Despite calls from the Midwest for increased disaster relief, my phone has until recently remained silent. I am reminded of my Red Cross Katrina deployment at a holding operation in Montgomery, AL. For 4 days Red Cross officials told our milling throng of some 500 volunteers that there were no calls for assistance in the ravaged areas, while on a wide screen TV in the corner, Governors Barbour of Mississippi and Blanco of Louisiana were close to tears in their urgent pleas for help. FEMA wasn’t the only body overwhelmed by this natural tragedy.

But continuing problems in the Midwest and Dolly’s whack at Texas have shaken the tree a bit, and at the moment 3 firms have requested I stand by. So perhaps after nearly 6 months of “ployage” I will soon be de-ployed. Be still my heart.